Really Good
by Lif61
Summary: Dean hasn't gotten laid in awhile, and he goes to a bar to search for someone to jump into bed with. Castiel shows up.


**A/N: Some Destiel PWP because I can. Enjoy.**

* * *

Dean liked to fuck, and he liked to get fucked. It'd been awhile since either had happened, so he was taking a break from their case for the night — a hammer, an _iron_ hammer, had been at the crime scenes of two murders, the victims with their heads bashed in, and there were no witnesses — and he was now at a crappy bar in town, not even really caring who he picked up.

Except no one was biting.

He'd been asking too many questions the past couple days, they knew he was a fed (or that he was here acting as one), and they weren't interested.

To his surprise, Cas came in sometime after one o'clock in the morning, taking a seat beside Dean at the counter.

"What're you doin' 'ere?" Dean asked, blinking sluggishly at him. He shook his head slightly, trying to clear his mind.

"Looking for you," Castiel answered, getting in close, thigh touching his.

He was already buzzing from the drinks he'd had, but his touch sent a heat through him that he couldn't shake off, and he shifted away, turning to look at the other patrons in the bar, seeing if they noticed.

They hadn't.

He rubbed at his thigh, then ended up with his hand on Castiel's leg. He kept it there.

"Somethin' happen?" he questioned.

"Sam's asleep. I got bored."

"Ah."

Dean raised a hand, calling the bartender over, and he ordered two more shots of whiskey — another for him, and one for Cas.

"So you thought you'd come be a cock block."

"Dean, I'm not a cock— Wait, a what?"

Castiel was eyeing him intently now, face serious, seeming eager to learn what this meant. It was enough to make Dean chuckle, and he ran his hand farther up his thigh. Cas leaned into him.

"Look, you're here, getting in my business."

"And what is your business?"

"I'm trying to get my dick wet, okay?"

"Dean, just put water on it."

That was by far the stupidest thing he'd ever heard in his entire fucking life.

Dean started laughing and he couldn't stop, even when the drinks were brought over, and he had an arm around Cas, tears in his eyes, and Castiel was squinting his blue eyes at him, head tilted in confusion.

"Dean, what? What did I do?"

"Just put water on it!" he cried. "Just put water on it. Oh my god, Cas. Water! On my— Holy fuck. Cas, that's not what that means."

"Then—"

"Sex. I'm here for sex."

"But you're drinking."

"Yep." Dean grabbed his shot of whiskey, downed it while staring pointedly at Cas, and then nudged his glass closer to him. "Have some."

"Dean, I don't think—"

"You can't get drunk. Might as well have some with me if you're gonna be a cock block." Dean then lowered his head, and found himself looking up at him, leaning in, lowering his voice. "Or are you offering yourself up, huh?"

He didn't know where the words came from, but it was Cas.

Why couldn't he say such a thing?

It. Was. Cas.

Cas, the angel who always had his back, who'd raised him from freakin' Perdition.

Yeah, Dean could totally take him in bed.

"Dean?"

"Mm?"

"I've never—"

"Always a first for everything."

"What if I don't want to?"

"Then why'd you come in here?"

Castiel's cheeks flushed, even his ears going a bit red, but he didn't duck his head, just stared down Dean, steel and heat in his angelic eyes, and Dean almost moved back from him, thick arousal starting to course through his blood.

"I want to."

It wasn't classy that they ended up in the men's bathroom, in a stall, the door conveniently locked with Castiel's Grace, and Dean was on his knees on the grimy floor, but god, he didn't care. He just did not care one bit. He was practically incoherent with arousal at this point, everything outside of Cas making little to no sense to him, and he was pulling his pants down, Cas staring at him hard with one eyebrow raised, a look he'd given some of his enemies when they weren't cooperating, and heat flushed through Dean so violently, he shuddered, a moan leaving him.

"God, Cas, you're beautiful."

He got his pants lowered, and eagerly set to work kissing and sucking at his thighs, hand wrapping around his growing erection. Cas put a hand in his hair, growling at him.

"_Dean._"

Fuck, his voice sounded so good all rough like that.

It'd been awhile since Dean had given anyone a blowjob, but for Cas he'd try his best. It wasn't just about wanting as he did right now, it was about technique. Knowing when and where to stroke, just how much to let into his mouth, when to bob his head, where to lick. And he did all he could, did his best with it, making sure to pay attention to his balls too, even getting a little adventurous and gripping hard at his ass.

His angel was a mess against him, growling and moaning, hands running through his hair, thumbs brushing over his ears and sending tingles throughout his body. It was when he started thrusting into Dean's mouth that Dean thought he might've lost it.

God, his hips were so wide, and they could _move_, and he was thick and hard and hot in his throat, and he didn't mind how he was almost choking on him. Dean just pressed his thumb against his palm — a little trick he'd learned as a teenager — and let him continue.

Castiel just kept going and going, and Dean had to pull back, but he pumped him now, watched him twitch with arousal, precum dripping from the nicely defined slit, saliva dripping off of him. He whimpered.

By now, Dean was raging hard, so much so he wasn't sure how he'd be able to stand up, his jeans much too tight, and he lowered one hand to free his own erection from the confines of his clothes.

Castiel looked down, cheeks flushed, breathing hard.

"I can take care of that," he told him once Dean had started to get to work on himself.

"No, no. I got it," Dean told him, wanting Castiel to just be on the receiving end for now.

Dean was embarrassed by the fact that he even wanted to get fucked by Cas at all. And god, he did; wanted this thick cock in him, wanted to ride him till he was sore, wanted Cas to get him on his stomach and pound into him till he was begging for mercy.

Dean told himself he was having these thoughts because he was really drunk.

Yeah, that was it.

"Let me take care of it," Castiel told him, gravelly voice letting him know this wasn't up for debate.

"O-okay."

Next thing he knew he was being forced up onto his feet.

"You're okay with this," Castiel quested.

"Oh, hell yes."

The angel put his hands to Dean's head, and bliss exploded through him, his nerves searing, ecstasy in every bit of his body. Feeling very guilty that he was the only one receiving pleasure, he reached out his shaking hand, and stroked Cas, grip hard, the slide of his hand rough, and his angel was arching his hips forward, and into him, against his throbbing cock.

There wasn't much else Dean could do but touch him. With his other hand, he reached under his clothes, grabbing at bare, toned flesh. His head was tilted back, eyes squeezed shut, mouth open in a soundless scream. Before he knew it, he was reaching his end, climaxing harder than he ever had before, so taken with it that he couldn't even get a sound out, couldn't even breathe.

A rough snarl left Castiel, and then his lips were on his, and Dean felt him reach his end as well. They held each other, despite the mess they were on their stomachs and their legs, lips together, and Dean was helpless to his touch, and in love with it.

Castiel pulled away, Dean's face cupped in his hands, and Dean slowly opened his eyes, seeing that Cas' pupils were huge with bliss and sexual satisfaction.

"What was… What was that?" Dean asked him.

"An orgasm," he answered simply, a hand to his forehead now to clean him off, and he had already cleaned himself off.

He was righting his clothes.

Dean was still too out of it.

"I… I know, but… What? What did you do?"

"Used my Grace to pleasure your nerves directly so that this wouldn't be a one-sided experience."

Castiel had fixed his pants now, and he had set about fixing Dean's clothes, tucking his cock back into his pants, and he pulled them up around his hips, getting into his personal space.

"I wanted you to feel good, Dean. Did you feel good?"

"Y-yeah. And you?"

Cas beamed at him, one of the first genuine smiles he'd ever seen on the angel. "Really good."


End file.
